The Story of the SelfInsert
by Kellen
Summary: Satirical, and packed full of wacky, sarcastic humor... Not meant to be taken overly seriously.


**The Story of the Self – Insert**

_or_

**Girl from Modern World Doesn't Quite Make It to Middle Earth and Never Meets Her Dream Man (or Elf, as the Case May Be) **

_A Lord of the Rings tragedy (or triumph) By Kellen_

_Rating: PG. I killed something. Well, I tried to kill something anyway…_

_Summary: Uh... I think it's a satire… I used self-insertion to make fun of Mary Sues… LoL_

_Disclaimer: LG is mine, unfortunately. Kellen is me, so I'm hoping I at least own her… er, me… whatever. Some of the ideas LG comes up with are not entirely of my own imaginings. And Tokien's kind estate owns any mention of Middle-Earth, Aragorn, Legolas or Elrond. Cassia, Sio, San, Gwen and Trinka are their own persons, and as such, I have no legal sway over their personage. They are mentioned in homage to their stories, which have been my inspiration. _

_Many special thanks to Liz, who helped immensely when she beta'd so many months ago. I wonder if she even remembers. :o) Cheers, hon, and thanks ever so._

_Author's Notes/Warnings: This is one is strange, people. I inserted myself to make fun of Mary Sues, and I'm using "story-within-a-story" format and it's just a little strange. I realize this may not be everyone's cup of tea, but, hey, the idea came to me, and I write for me, really. It's humorous, it offers insight into my personality that's just a little strange, and it offers a rather harsh view of everyday teenage angst. It's heavy on sarcasm, and snide remarks, with POV and tense changes (that are clearly delineated), so… proceed with that in mind._

* * *

Kellen, a rather tall but by no means slender young woman, enters a large comfortable room at a rather breakneck speed and, with her usual lack of decorum, practically throws herself into a huge armchair decorated with a purple chenille throw. After running her hands over the chenille – she loves the feel of it – she curls a leg under herself and opens a black journal somewhere near the middle. For a moment, she considers her audience, biting her lip. She's always nervous about telling any story. She'll tell you that she's nervous especially by humor, but then she'll tell you the same thing if she writes anything remotely serious. She'll tell you she's especially nervous by this one since she's using a writing device she's never done before.

Then she'll tell you she knows exactly what you'll say. She sighs, knowing good and well that her fellow writers and readers – her audience – will only receive her work with respect (except for that bothersome flamer!).

So after gathering what courage she has, she clears her throat. "Hey all," she says. "I've got a story for you." She winces; talk about cutting to the chase. "I thought, since I fancy myself a modern day bard of sorts, I'd try something different. This is a story I've worked on for a few days; those incredibly intense days when I could be found moving, lamenting my lack of internet access and searching frantically for my phone for some sort of outside contact. While I drove myself insane being cut off from everything, I managed to dream this up." She holds up the journal. "Literally. I dreamed this up."

Again she clears her throat. "I hope you at least enjoy the ride. I know it's been done before – self insert parodies are as numerous as the self inserts now – but I wanted to put my particular spin on things. Indulge a now-insane woman, would ya?"

Never one who was really any good at speaking (or smooth transitions, for that matter), Kellen then says, "Well, shall we get started? It's called 'The Story of the Self Insert'. Or maybe I should call it 'The Story of the Would Be Self Insert'." Kellen chuckles. "You'll see what I mean."

With a smile – once her initial fear is over, she really does enjoy this immensely – Kellen begins to read.

* * *

There was once a lonely girl who wandered her high school halls, sighing at points dictated by her schedule. The bell – one she always thought was incredibly loud; her hearing was quite sensitive. Could it have something to do with her delicately, slightly pointed, oh-so-ethereally beautiful ears? – rang just as she ducked into her advanced calculus/rocket science class. The teacher gave her a "look" for being so late, but declined to comment. The Lonely Girl was, by far, the smartest student in the high school.

Why was she lonely? Well, no one ever could tell. She was the smartest, the most beautiful, had the most striking eyes and a killer sense of humor.

Of course, that's if you asked her. Humility was obvious something to be desired. Perhaps that's why she was lonely.

Popular Girl turned her gaze upon Lonely Girl as she settled her perfect willowy frame into the desk. LG (as we shall call her for the sake of the narrator's peace of mind) immediately set about ignoring PG, but of course, LG's thoughts turned to PG, and her apparent dislike of LG.

Why? LG railed against the fates. Why do they despise perfection? Why does –

* * *

The book slams shut. Kellen, eyes narrowed and lips thinned, glares at the journal. "I hate this part, and the scariest part is I wrote it." She shakes her head. "Shall we just skip this selfish introspection then? Poor LG. She 'rails against the fates'. Where do I come up with this trash, eh?"

Kellen smiles, former irritation seemingly gone. "Ok, quick summary of events: LG rails against fate – and I'm mocking myself; truly sad – and PG makes snide remarks. LG rails some more, PG gets irritated – can you blame her? – and LG rails again, goes through incredible angst, we get a wonderfully deep description of her 'crystal' tears shining on her cheeks like 'stars in a thousand skies'. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah… Next class, same thing… LG goes home, her mom snaps at her, and she goes in, still with those iridescent tears streaming down her oh so beautiful pale cheeks, and stares longingly at her Orlando Bloom poster."

Kellen bites her lip and rubs her forehead. "Now, then, that's better, isn't it? I just condensed fourteen pages of hair-pulling boredom to one small paragraph of not so angsty Mary Sue angst. Shall we continue this, then?"

* * *

LG stared her poster, wishing with all her might she might disappear from this world, and leave the pain of high school far behind. She would trade all this angst weighing down her soul for the far more angsty angst of saving a world from darkness. Where was her adventure? For, since she was perfect in all other areas, shouldn't she be perfect in battle, in sorcery, in whatever was needed to defeat evil?

A lone, beautiful shining crystal tear dropped from her jaw onto her hand. With a (pretty) grimace, LG flicked it off her hand suddenly angry – a righteous anger, to be sure – that she had such a mundane, though angst filled, life.

The tear stopped in mid-air, suspended as if by her thought alone, and around it swirled a mass of bright, beautiful light. Of course, said mass, being the result of one tear alone, was about the size of LG's perfectly manicured thumbnail.

The shock of seeing it dried her tears instantly.

And in the next instant, LG knew what she must do.

Try as she might, the Lonely Girl could not produce any more tears. It seemed she had sobbed herself dry earlier. She moaned and groaned, strained and squinted, but not a single liquid drop issued forth. With a frustration born of desperation (and coupled with something akin to stupidity) Lonely Girl pointed at her own eye and contemplated her finger for a moment before ramming it home.

Tears did indeed spring forth, as did an explosion of pain and near blindness that caused LG to miss the awesome sight of swirling colors. (Although one could argue she was seeing the most interesting swirling colors since she'd just poked herself, rather spectacularly, in the eye.) The vortex opened, bathing her bedroom in blue light and LG found herself thing that perhaps Popular Girl was right; LG really was from another planet and her kin had finally heard her distress call and had come to take her away and the blue light would show her true, ethereally beautiful form.

* * *

The narrator takes this moment to comment that, in the spirit of poetic justice, LG should have a vision of herself decorated with chartreuse skin, mottled and covered with oozing sores, black eyes squinting out from under huge folds of skin and round enough to use as a fat alien roadblock on Interstate 5.

* * *

But, alas, when LG blinked away pain, and tears, all she saw was her all too human (albeit perfectly formed) hand. With a pretty pout firmly ensconced upon her (perfect) features, she contemplated the swirling vortex. On one (perfect) hand, LG was not stupid enough to think that jumping through any unknown vortex was a wonderful idea. In fact, it seemed pretty stupid, if she would have stopped to think logically about it. On the other (perfect) hand, life was pretty dull, and she was Lonely Girl. Her tears had opened this vortex, therefore, it was meant for her to jump through. LG nodded decisively. She would jump.

She contemplated the vortex for a moment, and a wicked, albeit a pretty, grin crept across her face. She looked over her shoulder and sighed as she beheld her beloved Orlando Bloom poster. Why her dream man hadn't swept into her life to take her away from the small town doldrums and into Hollywood glamour, she didn't know. She was perfect, after all. Why wouldn't he have heard of her and sought her out?

"It's a vortex to Middle Earth," LG stated. "I will jump through, land at the feet of Legolas, join the Fellowship, and singlehandedly save all of dear Middle Earth from Sauron's evil, whereupon I will graciously accept Lord Elrond's undying gratitude and servitude if I'm lucky, I will claim the throne of Gondor and graciously hand it over to Aragorn – who, God love him is such a weakling, I swear – and then Legolas will proclaim his undying eternal love for me." She grinned. "Oh, and I shall be an elf, and we can have immortal love."

LG spun in a circle. It seemed her dreams were only a step away from coming through. "Now," she said, tapping her lip thoughtfully, "how should I jump through? I'll be landing at Legolas' feet, so… headfirst?" Shaking her head, she quickly dismissed the idea. "Wouldn't want to be unconcious for my first trip to Middle Earth. Of course, should I land in the middle of an orc battle, get hit by Legolas' stray arrow… Oh, yes, there's an idea. He'll feel so guilty he'll nurse me back to health, then I will take over all of Middle Earth."

* * *

"Insert diabolical laughter here."

Kellen clears her throat. "I know, I know. It's a frightening concept, yes? Evil Mary Sue self insert dictator of Middle Earth." She rolls her eyes. "The sad part is that I've seen every one of these ideas in print somewhere, so I'm not claiming I came up with this. Valar, no…"

She closes her journal, keeping her place with a finger in the pages. "I interrupted myself to point out a couple things. One… Stray arrow? Legolas? You're kidding me, right? Somehow I just don't see it happening. And, hello?! Legolas is not the healer in this group!"

Kellen sighs. "Much as I do enjoy some of my dreams in which I find myself spending quality time with a gorgeous guy, I really have no wish to be partially disemboweled by an orc. I just don't have the desire. Call me crazy…"

"Right. How tired are y'all of the narrator interrupting herself?" With a grin, Kellen flips open the journal. "Back to the story. It's almost done."

* * *

LG took a deep breath, preparing herself for the sappy hurt/comfort about to come that would cement her relationship with the blond archer. She ran her hands through her hair arranging it just so, checked her make up in the handy mirror on the wall (not that her perfection needed enhanced) and leapt, not worried one bit about the trip. She might have been fragile, but she was also tough.

God, but she was so humble. All the peoples of Middle Earth would love her.

Fragile, yet tough, she may have been, but when her body found the vortex, it was fragile that won out.

She didn't even have time to scream.

One the other side of the vortex, there was indeed a battle raging. Orcs rushed a man and an elf, but the duo had things squarely in hand. They obviously didn't need saving, nor were there any stray arrows. Every green fletched projectile found its mark.

There was a small flash of light behind the duo, and they noticed nothing. (To give them due credit, they were somewhat occupied by the orcs in front of them.) A single drop of blood – presumably all that was left of LG – squeezed through the vortex and fell to the ground, behind the elf's foot.

It was never noticed and quickly covered by black orc blood.

"What is it with you?" The call came from the elf, who was alternating between glaring at the orcs and at his human friend. "Why? Why does every foul creature come rushing you? And why must I be dragged into it?"

Aragorn afforded Legolas a glare, and judging from the look, it was one he'd picked up from Elrond himself. "Because you insist on spending time with me. Keep doing that and you'll invariably be drawn into my trouble."

Legolas grunted. "Remind me to say no next time you invite me hunting." With that, the last orc was slain (and with no major injuries! Elrond would be so proud of the two of them.)

"Let's get out of here," Aragorn said.

"Agreed."

Within hours, the clearing was vacated, the orc bodies burned and the forest quiet once again. The spot where LG's remains had landed was covered in slick black blood and ash.

No one sang songs of her. No strange new exotic plants grew upon that spot. No elves visited her final resting place to extol her honor and valor.

No one knew of her.

And Middle Earth was not the worse off for it.

* * *

Kellen closes her journal, smiling at the people who have gathered to listen to her rather warped story (and, frankly, giddy that people have actually stayed through to the end.) She leans forward and, in the manner of narrators everywhere, says, "And so closes our story."

"I don't think so," an eerily family voice cries. A figure steps dramatically into the light and strikes a pose meant to be enticing. Kellen finds it somewhat irritating; what woman in her right mind would willingly contort her back in that way? "What an entrance," LG congratulates herself.

Kellen blinks and thumbs through her journal, a perplexed expression marring her (average) features. "Didn't I crush you in a mass of swirly light?" Panic flits across her face. "Please tell me I didn't leave a loose end!"

LG chuckles. "I'm a self insert, honey. I've an annoying habit of just showing up. I can't not have my perfection gracing every page."

Kellen's jaw drops. She can't decide which might be more frightening: the fact that LG was employing logic or that she understood LG's logic. Recovering somewhat, Kellen snorts. "Look, LG, you're a SELF insert. You can't just walk into anyone's stories."

"Like yours?" LG laughs, enjoying Kellen's rising ire. "I may start doing it just to annoy you."

There is silence for a moment. "And you wonder why you're lonely," Kellen mutters.

Anger flashes in LG's large perfect green eyes. "I have a name, you know."

Kellen perks up at this; perhaps she can fill in a few gaps in her story by knowing a little more about LG. "Really? What?"

"Well," LG preens, "I prefer my elven name, which is Nowe-"

"Nowhere near important right now," Kellen says quickly, hoping to stave off the unfortunate conglomeration of letters she knew was coming. "So, LG, what's with the 'distressed and lonely'?" (Yes, even Kellen has lapses of logic sometimes, but she really did want to fill out her story and get into LG's motivations; even as the question is asked, Kellen nearly curses her stupidity aloud.)

Instead of the tirade Kellen expects, LG only pouts. (Do normal people pout this much, Kellen wonders.) "I don't know," LG cries. "I'm so very perfect. Who wouldn't want to hang out with me?"

Kellen almost raises her hand. "Question answered."

LG raises an eyebrow, and adopts the sickly sweet insulted tone that Kellen absolutely hates. "What did you say?"

"You're the one with the ultra sensitive hearing," Kellen groused. "Figure it out." She waves her hands. "You know what? Screw it. You're hanging about, uninvited I might add, in my story. Get your perfect little butt outta here."

For a second, LG gapes, but then utters a single word, calling Kellen something she's been called before but never by a figment of her own imagination.

Kellen's jaw clenches and, with a swift move, shows LG the pen in her hand. "You speak to a poetess, authoress and reader schooled well in the ways of madness and torture. I learn from Cassia, Sio, San, Gwen, Trinka and countless others. Edgar Allen Poe I consider a literary genius. With a flick of my wrist and a turn of my pen, I will make your life a living nightmare should you wish to stay in my story uninvited. Get out."

LG takes a small step back and regards Kellen with uncertainty.

Kellen grins as if she almost wishes LG will stay. The pen hand twitches. "I turn party trays into literary devices. Trust me, I can orchestrate an irreversible descent into madness and despair."

LG still hesitates.

"It will involve gorging yourself and you'll gain three pounds," Kellen adds dryly.

With a shriek of indignation, LG turns on her heel and flees. Kellen slams the door for her. She turns back to her audience. "Sorry, mellyn nin. It seems there was some unfinished business." She smiles. "And that closes our story." With a final look at the door, Kellen mutters, "Not how I would have preferred, but we all know how these stories can be. They just write themselves sometimes."

THE END…

…THANKFULLY

_Kellen humor.__ What can I say?_


End file.
